Aspects
by Crukix
Summary: Lysandre's weapon was fired. Something went wrong. The world has changed forever and no one is certain if it's for the better or worse. A Worm inspired story.
1. 1-01

**_Aspects_**

_By Crukix_

**-.-.-.-**

"My boy, I could tell you all the information you ever wanted about how wrong your school's systems are. The world fell to shit long before the Reckoning, but no one wants to admit that these days. All people are interested in now is that those Kalosian terrorists blew the world to shit with that weapon of their and ended up fucking things over more than we could ever have imagined."

"Grandpa," I sighed as I rubbed my eyes to stay awake. "You've told me this story a hundred times. Whatever weapon they used forced a grand-scale evolution event on the entirety of the human race – almost exactly like the metamorphosis evolution that pokémon go through. All the world powers united when they realised what had happened and now we're still trying to figure out just what's happened to all of us."

I leant back, nearly burning myself on the fire crackling in the fireplace. The living room was almost entirely taken up by the white-marble structure that rose from floor to ceiling. Though the flames bathed the room in a warming, orange glow, it only seemed to make the mottled green wallpaper even more depressing.

A framed photo of Grandpa and Grandma on their wedding day hung on the wall opposite me, above Grandpa's black leather armchair. Apparently they were only a few years older than I am now when they got married. With Grandpa sat directly in front of it, I could stand there and see the effects time has on a person.

_Time is a cruel mistress, just as they say._

"Heh," he grunted, leaning back in his chair. Most of my friends had grandparents that fit the stereotype of how old people should look – wrinkled, grey-haired, weak and visibly likely to die from exhaustion at any moment. Grandpa, however, looked far too spritely for anyone at the age of eighty-three. It probably had something to do with entering body-building competitions and being built like a brick shit house.

Considering he never had a pokémon either, his strength came from his own hard work.

"Kids these days," running a hand through his jet black hair. He had to dye it - even if it was possible to have black hair at his age, he had a mop of orange hair in his wedding photo. "I swear, when we were all separated, we were much more willing to listen to our elders. Merging with the Unovans didn't just bastardise our language - it made our children twice as stupid and three times as ugly!"

"Grandpa," I sighed, "Grandma was Unovan."

"And have you seen what she looked like on our wedding day?" He laughed again as he looked up at the photo on the wall. With her golden hair in curls, a slim white wedding dress and bright blue eyes, she looked like she could have been a pin-up in any magazine. Of course, Grandpa said the complete opposite.

"A nose the Wicked Witch would be jealous of and ears Dumbo could use to fly!" He grinned at me. "You don't know who either of them are, do you?" He sighed. "Felix… what are we going to do with you?"

I just smiled back at him. "You'll have to let me borrow your holos again. I won't learn otherwise."

"Blasted holos," he muttered, rising from his chair. "Holograms and virtual reality and programmes beamed directly into your eye. Back in my day it was all Blue Rays and illegal downloads on the internet. Virtual Reality was just a dream!"

I couldn't help but smile as his muttering continued, even as he wandered up the stairs. An entire wall of his living room was devoted to his electronic nostalgia - shelves upon shelves of ancient video games and movies that people had long stopped developing machines to play on. An old-style 2D television took pride of place in the middle of all his shelves - at only fifty-two inches, it was surprising anyone would take pride in a television so small. The black leather armchairs were even video game chairs designed when he was growing up, hooked up to his consoles with wires, with speakers built into the arms and able to vibrate in time with the controller.

"_Felix!_" he shouted from upstairs. I heard a distinct _thud_ as he dropped another box of holos on the floor. "Don't bother coming back until you've seen every episode of _Family Guy_ I give you! If you can't recite them word for word when I see you again, I'm disowning you!"

"Sure Grandpa," I shouted back up. "Can I get a ride back with all of them? Dad'll have a fit if I walk back after dark again!"

With the sounds he made coming down the stairs, you would have been forgiven for thinking there was an earthquake.

"Pah," he said, walking into the living room, "your dad's a wuss. Used to jump at his own shadow when he was growing up. Now your mother? _There's_ a woman! Smarts and kick-ass! Why if I were just ten years younger-"

"_Ew_," I groaned, taking the box of holos from him. It was lighter than I thought - he must have thrown them on the floor to make them echo so much before. "Grandpa, please," I begged as I began placing the holos in my rucksack. "What would Grandma say?"

"She'd ask if she can join."

I felt the red rush through my cheeks and ears before I could stop it. Grandpa took one look and laughed. "Don't look so glum Felix," he said, slapping my shoulder. "You'll appreciate the fact I talk to you like a man when I'm dead and gone and you've got your parents babying you at all times. Heavens know your grandma used to do it all the time too." Just for a moment his smile vanished. In its place was a lonely old widow; a stranger wearing my grandpa's face. "Tell your sister to stop by some time. I'll teach her how to ride a motorbike so she can impress that boy she likes."

"What one?" I muttered. "She changes her mind every week."

"And why not? You're only young once - why not make the most of it?"

I don't even want to think of what my parents would say if they heard him say that. There would be shouting and screaming and probably a whole lot of things said that were regretted straight afterwards.

"On a serious note, if there is anything you ever need to tell me, you realise I'm always here. I don't care what hour of the day it is or how big or how little whatever you want to tell me is; I'll always be here to listen."

_He knows._

I nodded, plastering a smile on my face. "I know, Grandpa," I said, slinging my now full rucksack on my shoulders. "But there isn't anything you should worry about."

"Feh," he grunted, waving a hand. "You've gotten yourself a pokémon – I have plenty of reason to worry." His words made me reach for the red and white ball suspended on the necklace I wore. "What is it, a month you've had it now?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "They give them out at school when you start the final year."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, sitting in his chair again. "I remember helping your dad go through all the forms and the bullshit when he was in school. 'Your child will be tested for a compatible pokémon. Although the Aspect they take on is unknown, our teaching staff is fully qualified to help in every way possible.' You know what he got given? A sunkern. Fuck me _sideways_, that was embarrassing."

"But he still got his Aspect," I pointed out.

"Oh yes. The ability to whistle a tune that puts everyone that hears it to sleep." He groaned and shook his head. "Believe you me, soon as I found that out I really thought I'd spend the rest of my life having to rescue him from prison. Anyway, let me know when yours starts to come through. Fourteen still seems far too young to be inflicting such things on you. At least your eyes haven't changed colour yet, so that's something. I've seen that happen before – it's never pretty."

"Yeah but you can develop an Aspect at any age, can't you? So long as you're around a compatible pokémon."

"I suppose you're right," he said, chewing on his lip as if he was staring right through me. He had the same grey eyes as Dad, though the nose he claimed Grandma had was actually his - apparently broken by the stock of a rifle to the face.

"Just remember," he said, moving to let me out. "Do you still want that lift?"

"I'll be fine," I said, looking outside. The night sky was almost impossibly black – apparently the pollution from the Reckoning stopped the stars from shining down on us now. The sunlight still got through during the day, but night left us with nothing but artificial light to go by.

"I'll walk," I said, stepping out into the fresh air. It was cold on my skin, carrying with it the faintest smell of eggs – as the air always did.

"Let me know if you change your mind. If not, I'll see you next Friday."

"Sure Grandpa," I said, waving. "Love you."

"Man up," he sneered, slamming the door shut. I laughed. Same old Grandpa.

**-.-.-.-**

It began to rain halfway through my walk home. _Predictable._ Whilst it was only a five block trip home - eight if I decided to avoid the rough part of town, like I was doing - with the way the rain hammered down like something out of the Bible, I was drenched in the blink of an eye.

Thunder clapped overhead. My sigh was lost to the sound of the storm as I continued to walk. Logic dictated that I should have waited in a bus shelter, hiding from the rain and enjoying the paltry amount of light it cast. I would have done so, if the rain was anything other than this near-horizontal bitch of a storm. Growling and gritting my teeth, I continued on.

Behind the rain, I was certain I heard someone's voice whispering.

A shudder ran down my spine. Cold, I hugged myself, hoping Grandpa's holos weren't damaged. I hurried along my way, but every footstep seemed to take twice as long. I could see the path I normally took to school - a single flickering street lamp fought against an omnipresent darkness. It was almost like something out of a horror film, promising me certain death if I decided to venture towards school.

_Yeah, like I didn't know that already._

I toyed with the poké ball on my necklace. A flash of light and I would have my companion with me. Something stopped me from calling him. A horrible, despairing feeling, telling me that if I called him, everything would get worse somehow.

I blew water off my nose and groaned. Page after page of paperwork I'd had to read through before getting my pokémon blurred in my mind. Warnings about spending too much time with the pokémon. Getting too close prompted more physical aspects to develop. Reminders that humanity lacked the required secondary Aspects to breathe fire or the like.

I swallowed and started walking just a bit faster. No one was in the street - who would be? Only crazy people ventured out in these storms.

More whispers ghosted around me.

I spun, gasping, heart racing. Nothing but darkness greeted me. I pressed a hand over my heart, frowned and tried my best to breath evenly. The rainwater felt like it was sticking to me, refusing to budge. I had to squint to be able to see against the onslaught. A single drop of water hung from my nose for an impossible amount of time, like a suicidal person on the ledge of a tall building. Finally it took the leap.

The voices hissed around me again.

I turned and ran. I could hear everything they were saying and yet I couldn't understand a word at the same time. The sound of my blood pulsing drummed in my ears. My feet splashed loudly against puddles. Rainwater soaked through my clothes, clinging to my skin.

The whispers promised me my salvation, they foretold my doom.

_Two blocks._

I continued running.

The whispers grew quicker, more demonic in sound. I could understand less, even though I heard no words. They tried to lure me in with lies but chased me away with truths.

I saw a bus shelter standing alone, defiant against the storms. Trees around it buckled in the wind. Its light shone brightly, a beacon in the middle of an otherwise empty street. I didn't know why, but I leapt into it like it was holy salvation.

The whispers receded.

I let out a breath, coughed and tasted blood. A spat a wad of phlegm on the floor and stared at it, like it could answer all my questions.

The shadows moved.

I gasped and fell against the bus shelter, panicked. Nothing emerged from the inky-black darkness. I felt like I had fallen into a void, left to drown in the murky depths of the ocean. The bus shelter light tried to flicker, but decided against it. The light remained strong in the face of a pitch-black fog that grew around me.

My heart was hammering against my chest. I was certain people could hear it three blocks over. My house was a block away, yet I was too terrified to move from the little safe haven I had found. Logic wanted to tell me that I was safe - my paranoia was playing tricks on me. It was all just a fantasy concocted from too many late night holos and Grandpa's stories.

My instincts screamed that I would never be safe again.

I took quick, shallow breaths as I stared out into the darkness, psyching myself up. I couldn't stay here, alone in the middle of nowhere. I felt like a victim in Silent HIll, waiting for the darkness to recede. Pinching myself did nothing - then again, it never did, even when I was dreaming.

The shadows formed shapes, almost like bodies.

Half my height, with a head as big as my waist. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I saw the long clawed arms reach towards the light of the bus shelter. Soulless black eyes stared out at me. Sharp rows of razor-sharp teeth glistened in the night.

The sheer mind-numbing terror nearly made me piss myself then and there.

_The light_, some part of me managed to say. Whatever they were, they didn't like light. I wasn't about to comment on it being a cliché or like something out of a bad sci-fi film. I backed up, standing on the bench and stood as close to the light as I possible could.

A car sounded in the distance. The shadows hissed and broke apart as the car's headlights tore through them. The car hurtled away, as if chased by invisible cops.

The shadows reformed, as if nothing had ever happened.

"S-stay back!" I shouted at them, voice breaking. I got the distinct feeling that they would have laughed, had they known how to.

I whispered a silent prayer that something would give me the power to stop these creatures from killing me.

Instead, the light began to flicker.

I clenched my fists, felt tears in my eyes. I could call on my pokémon but that would only make things worse. He wasn't well trained enough, not yet. Stupid school, giving us eggs and making us raise them from infancy. The best he would be was a distraction – a last-second meat shield before the things tore into me.

My hands were sweating. Rainwater ran off me. A wind picked up, chilling me. The voices echoed all around me.

_I'm going to die._

The thought wasn't at all sobering, like they show on the movies. It was near shit-myself paralyzing.

The sound of an engine stirred my muscles into action. Screaming, I ran through the shadows, self-preservation forgotten. They hissed. Tiny little fangs bit into my skin. I felt needle-sharp claws tear away strips of my back, my chest, my face. I screamed in pain but carried on running, further and further from them, towards the light, away from -

The motorbike barely stopped in time.

I could hear the driver swear, even underneath his helmet. He barely managed to keep the motorbike's back wheels on the road, even as he nearly went over the handlebars himself. He was broad enough that I didn't noticed the passenger behind him until they hopped off the bike.

She was clearly a woman, tall and svelte. She raced towards me, screaming something like my name. Her hands shook my shoulders, but I could only see the shadows, circling, waiting.

"_Felix!"_

I looked at the woman. She pulled the motorcycle helmet off, letting her long black hair, dip-dyed red, spill free.

"Felix!" said my sister.

"Cam!" I threw myself at her, shaking. I didn't care how I looked as I wrapped my arms around her, trembling. "The shadows," I babbled, sounding crazy. "They're attacking! They came after me and they kept biting and scratching and-"

The slap was a shock to the system.

"Felix," Cam said, her lip trembling, even as I reached up to touch where she'd slapped me. "What are you talking about? There aren't any scratches on you."

I looked down. My skin was perfect, fresh. I pressed my hands to my face and found it free of injury. Even though the rain continued to hammer down on us, I felt dry.

My sister was the very image of concern. She brushed my hair from my face, watching me like I was likely to breakdown at any moment.

"Camille!" the biker shouted, breaking silence. "Get your stupid little shit of a brother out of my way! Little creep nearly wrecked my bike!"

I could picture the rainwater evaporating off of her; such was the anger that clouded her face. I took a step backwards, watching. The fact that the shadows had disappeared played at the edges of my mind, like a forgotten idea that I couldn't remember.

"Here's an idea Colin," Cam said, shoving the bike helmet into his chest. He grunted just before she punched him in the jaw, knocking him _and_ his bike to the floor.

"Don't ever say shit about my brother," she growled, pointing at him. "Oh?" She looked at his bike. "Did your baby get a scratch?" A flash of light and she punched the front tyre. I heard the air _whoosh _out, louder than Colin's cry. Cam flicked the pocket knife at him, pointing it at his face. "Your _poor_ baby had an accident.

"Come on Felix," she said, looking to me. "I'll get you home." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. A flick of her thumb activated the torch, basking the street in a hot-white glow. I pressed myself to her side, fearful of any more shadows leaping out of the dark. Cam wrapped her arm around my shoulders, keeping her other hand free to hold the torch.

"Oh and by the way," she said over her shoulder. "In case you hadn't guessed, you're dumped."

**-.-.-.-**

The lights were on in the living room when we got home. Cam had stayed silent the whole time, holding me, guiding me and just letting me know that she was there. I couldn't love her more than I did at that moment when we reached our house. If she had asked me for details, I would have broken down and never been able to recover again.

Cam switched off her phone's torch, slid her keys into the door and let me leap in first before coming in behind me. Where once I had felt dry and free of the rain, we were instead both soaked, dripping on Mom's new wood floors.

As she came out of the living room and saw us, her eyes nearly doubled in size. "Cam?"

"Fuck off," my sister growled, stomping up the stairs.

I winced and looked away. Six months ago, my sister had been a normal, happy eighteen year old. Then she went away for a week with her boyfriend and they got into an accident. I don't know how bad it was - only that he had died and Cam had been hurt so badly that I wasn't allowed in to her room to see her for the first week, until Mom had decided it wouldn't damage me too much to see her.

Apparently my brain was doomed one way or another.

"Felix," Mom said, looking at me. She and Cam looked almost the same, barring the obvious difference in age. Light brown skin, long black hair, bright brown eyes and a small nose. Where Mom had only a small amount of make-up, Cam painted her face in the typical goth style. Cam favoured leather, blacks and purples, whereas Mom could make herself the typical suburban housewife, if such a thing existed anymore.

I however, took after my dad. Dusty brown hair, bright blue eyes, though my skin was a light shade of olive, instead of Dad's glow of the moon. Fortunately I inherited Mom's smaller nose and ears, rather than Dad's Wicked Witch and Dumbo combo.

I was the complete opposite of my sister, in so many ways. She was the smart one, the one who everyone loved, the one who could walk into the room and steal the attention of every guy in there. Meanwhile I was the one who scraped by as an 'average' on all counts. Smart enough to get by, dumb enough to never excel. I could walk in and out of a room without anyone ever noticing I was there.

"Are you okay?" Mom asked, touching my cheeks.

I was certain she had to have found the traces of tears that had undoubtedly escaped. I sighed and shook my head.

"It's nothing," I said.

Mom bit her lip, but said no more on the subject. I loved her for that. She knew the boundaries and respected them, only pushing when she knew that something truly horrible had happened. Without any evidence to prove otherwise, she wouldn't press this issue.

"Your father's working late," she said, sighing.

"Okay."

"Another Trainer got involved," she explained. "Your father's with the coroner now, attempting to piece together what's left of the poor bastard."

I nodded. "I'm gonna go upstairs," I said, looking at her shoes. Even indoors, she insisted on wearing her work heels, as if someone important might drop by at any moment. She was taller than me and my sister, so I doubted it was to make herself try to combat short-person syndrome.

"Grandpa gave me a load of holos," I said. "I might watch one or two."

Mom raised an eyebrow. "And what holos did he give you this time?"

"_The Simpsons_," I said reflexively. "I said I didn't want to take anything that would make him get into trouble."

Mom nodded, giving me permission to leave. I crept up the stairs, already able to hear Cam's music blasting through the house. Upstairs there were two bedrooms and a bathroom. The fact that we had a house made us one of the richer families in the neighbourhood.

It still meant that Cam and I effectively shared a room. A curtain rail had been placed across the middle, separating it. We had barely enough space for a single bed on each side, a wardrobe and a weird leather footstool thing that I had never bothered learning the name of that held clothes inside.

I'd barely managed to shut the door behind me and sit on my bed when Cam pulled back the curtains separating our 'rooms'. Despite what people thought of her, Cam kept her 'room' immaculate. True there were posters over the walls, a guitar propped against her wardrobe and a collection of hunting knives on the bed - that neither of our parents knew about - but she had a pride towards everything that was hers.

"What happened?" Cam asked. I knew she wasn't talking about my conversation with Mom or Grandpa.

"I don't know," I admitted. I ran a hand through my hair, shaking most of the water free and tried to put my thoughts into order. "I thought there was something following me in the darkness. I could have sworn it looked like someone or something was making shapes out of the shadows. You don't think-"

"I don't," Cam interrupted.

"But-"

"Shh," she said, hugging my head and pressing it to her shoulder. "It's not Myst."

"How do you know?" I whispered, clutching her.

"Because he wouldn't have escaped Orre so easily."

I let out a small breath. Myst, once a man who gained a koffing as his pokémon. Fast forward four years and one evolution later, his Aspect revealed that he was able to generate poisonous gasses – at first. From there he refined them into an acidic fog that dissolved anyone unfortunate enough to breathe it in. Over time he learnt how to do more - how to make blackout mists, smokescreens… apparently he managed to create a radioactive cloud that had rivalled Chernobyl.

He had been captured and dumped in Orre six months ago. Supposedly the country had always been rough and wild. Now it was surrounded by impenetrable walls and psychic barriers, filled to the brim with Aspect criminals who were all left to their own devices.

"The Elites wouldn't have let that happen," Cam said, still hugging me. "You know they take their whole deal of defending Earth as seriously as anyone can."

"But still," I whimpered.

"But nothing," Cam said. "Come on." She took off my rucksack, stripped me of my soaking jacket and made me change into dry clothes. The fact that she could change from violently protective older sister to almost maternal wasn't something most people saw. When she was happy that I had dried and changed, she pulled me close again, stroking my hair, humming the song Mom sung to us when we were kids.

"I'll make sure you're safe," she said. I closed my eyes, listened to her humming and felt safe.

"I'll protect you," she said as I fell asleep. "From anyone, anywhere, anytime. I promise."


	2. 1-02

**_Aspects_**

_By Crukix_

**-.-.-.-**

**-.-.- 1.02 -.-.-**

I would have never thought that school could be a blessing, or a safe haven from anything. With the crowds of people around me, however, I felt safer than I had done in a while. Whatever the hell I'd seen the other night wouldn't be coming back for me in a populated, busy, _bright_ building.

Even so, the continual _bang_, _bang, bang_ of lockers slamming shut made me flinch each time.

I threw textbooks into my locker and grabbed the ones I would need. Monday meant an hour of pokémon studies, two hours of maths, two of English, an hour of history and then an hour of chemistry to round up the day. None of them would give me time to kick back, to relax and to think. I managed not to breathe a sigh of relief. After those things, the last thing I wanted was to have free time to think and worry about them. Better to be driven to suicide by near-impossible maths questions.

I slammed my locker shut and groaned. I already knew I was badly affected by what had happened. I had spent the entire weekend hiding in my room, refusing to move. If it wasn't for Cam bringing me up food every so often, I would have forgotten to eat too.

Even so, was I really so shell shocked that I was actually looking _forwards_ to spending two hours with Mrs Magrady? She was easily one of the smartest women I had ever met, but she seemed to have no idea that stupid people could exist. To her, there were no stupid people, just intelligent people that were too lazy to do anything with it.

I tried my best not to focus too much on the thought of maths as I made my way downstairs to the pokémon studies building. It was really just a massive old gymnasium, turned into a series of thick-walled, soundproof classrooms that we used to practice hanging out with our pokémon in.

The corridor towards the classrooms was the same as any in the school – bleached white walls, covered with the random pinboard that was decorated with news clippings about the school's progress.

I made my way into the classroom, unsurprised to see that I wasn't the first one there. The Cherri twins were there already, stood in the corner of the room, gossiping between themselves – as per usual. They were identical twins, with long red hair, thick framed glasses and matching green overalls. Two oddish sat in plant pots they carried in their arms; only the leaves poking out of each.

I sighed as I grabbed a seat and did my best to fall asleep. It wouldn't last long, I knew already. The pokémon studies classes were small – only six or seven people at a time – which meant that four more people, including the teacher and we would be ready to start.

Sure enough, I felt my eyelids just start to grow heavy as our teacher slammed his textbook down on his desk.

Mr Rogers was an old man with a beard that seemed taller than some of the students I'd seen. He never bothered combing his hair or taming his eyebrows, so he really just looked like a vagrant that had wandered in from the street and been offered a job.

He straightened his tie – not that I understood why he wore one, considering how well his beard hid it – and cleared his throat. "Welcome to today's lesson. Very nice to see you're all here."

I grunted as I propped my chin up and attempted to keep my eyes open. Sitting at the front of the class did not help – it just meant I was treated to a view of where Mr Rogers had forgotten to button up one of his shirt buttons.

I didn't know it was possible to have so much belly hair.

"Now, those of you that haven't done so already, please release your pokémon."

The sounds of poké balls opening filled the classroom. Thankfully I wasn't in one of the classes where someone had been given a grimer or a trubbish – I would have cried or skipped the lesson entirely if that had happened. Off the top of my head, I think there was a smoochum and a magnemite in here.

I plucked my own poké ball from my necklace and let my pokémon form on my desk. He burst out in a shower of white, gurgling as he put his hand to his mouth and began to suck on his thumb.

I fought the urge to groan. _Really wish I had taught him not to do that already._

"Good, good," said Mr Rogers, clapping his hands. "Now, I want you all to write down everything you know about your pokémon, then everything about the person sitting next to you – no, Samantha, that does not mean you and your sister can sit next to each other and write the same thing twice."

I rolled my eyes as I started to put pen to paper. My pokémon grabbed a spare pen from my pencil case, found an empty section of paper and began to try and copy me. I grunted a laugh as I watched him, doodling nonsense and seeing the way that he copied me.

What really was there to say about my pokémon? I started with the basics; _green hair, red eyes. Looks like he's wearing a dress. Could I have gotten a more __feminine_ _pokémon?_

Arguably, yes. I could have ended up with something like a jigglypuff.

I grinned as I saw him drawing a little doodle of himself.

"Ah, Felix," said Mr Rogers as he moved by my desk, "how very nice to see you and your ralts working together."

"I guess so," I said, shrugging. Keeping him locked away in his ball seemed to have done the trick – they were meant to pick up on emotions and act on them. The last thing I needed was him realising how scared I had been lately and accidentally telekinetically throwing people through walls – awesome as that may be.

"He has a name, does he not?"

I grunted as I nodded. "Benji."

"Ah, very nice. Is Felix treating you well, Benji?"

My pokémon rolled his eyes before I could roll mine. Awesome. I've successfully corrupted a psychic type and made it horribly sarcastic. All I needed was to teach him to speak and we could be the ultimate sarcastic duo in school.

"Very cute," Mr Rogers said, laughing. "Make sure to train him as much as you can, Felix. Psychics are rare pokémon – you do not want to let their intelligence go to waste."

"Yeah sure," I said, watching the way he began to draw again. One month old and already he could draw better than me. I knew my skills at art were lacklustre, but having an infant pokémon point it out to you was cruel.

_My pokémon is a show-off_, I wrote. _Slowly becoming sarcastic and thinks he's a better human than I am._

He looked at it and poked his tongue out at me in response. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the thought that he could read already.

**-.-.-**

After the joys of pokémon studies – which mostly involved me discovering how much smarter than me my own pokémon was going to be - I slunk into maths with a couple of minutes to spare and took my seat. The class was still pretty empty, but I knew where everyone would sit. The cool kids occupied the seats at the back. The smart ones generally sat in the front and the dreamers - or the ones that thought their lives were stories being read by the thousands - all sat by the windows, staring out at the grey gravel of our school's courtyard. It meant that my seat was smack-bang in the middle of the classroom, in perfect view of everyone.

I dropped my textbook on the desk and managed not to flinch at the thud it made. Two of the smart kids were there already and both turned in their seats to glare at me. Trish even managed to pop a bubble of gum aggressively.

Why she sat at the front confused me. Sure she was smart, but she was still one of the most popular kids. Her hair, weaved into dreadlocks and tinged with purple and black, seemed to be as big as her. She managed to glare at me over the thick red-framed glasses perched on her nose, annoyance plain on her face.

Unlike the packs of alpha bitches, who prowled the halls like packs of hyenas, seeking to feed off the scraps from everyone else, Trish was the lion. I'd seen her make kids popular with one gesture and abandon others to the gloom of solitude with one cold shoulder.

In the class, no one disturbed her learning. Her parents weren't rich big-shots, but she managed to carry herself with an air of privilege that many strived for and failed.

Next to her was Dennis, wearing a black and red checkered blazer, copying Trish yet again. He'd combed his long ginger hair, seemingly for this class. The fact that Trish sat next to him made him think that they had some sort of connection, some bond, or something like that. Most classes were spent trying not to laugh at his futile attempts of wooing her.

Stopping the class to read a poem dedicated to his 'dusky goddess' hadn't been the wisest of moves.

I could see him looking at Trish, even as he continued to try and give me the stink eye. Where she went, he followed. If she said jump, he was already in the air.

Trish turned her head and spat out her wad of gum. How she did it, I'm not sure, but it arced perfectly in the air and landed in the bin behind Mrs Magrady's desk. She looked back at me, seemingly non-plussed at her one-in-a-million shot.

"Please don't start throwing your book around. I'm trying to concentrate."

It was Dennis that added the, "Yeah, bitch!" at the end.

In the age we lived in, I wouldn't have been surprised if Trish could set fire to him with a look alone. "Did I hear you right?" she snapped. "Do you think it's funny to start throwing around that word? I'm trying to resolve things _politely_ and you start throwing around your derogatory words? Do women mean nothing to you?"

Sighing, I opened my textbook and tried to tune them out. So many of the kids here tried to act like the alphas over one another. Too many conversations with my dad had steered me away from that line of thinking. Puberty brought out a lot of changes in people - more often than it also brought people gaining their Aspects. The stronger the Aspect, the earlier it would develop, or so the limited studies into the nature of them had said. Upon learning that, Dad had made sure to sit Camille and I down to discuss a few important things.

Mainly that involved not making enemies at school or pissing off people just for the hell of it. That kid you just laughed at? He might discover one day that he can burn things down with just a thought. The one you beat up with to steal their lunch money? He might be able to turn invisible and hunt you down. The girl you called a whore? God help you if you find out the hard way she's able to lift a car above her head.

I had my group of friends, but unfortunately none were in this class. Probably for the best, considering Trevor's _insane_ crush on Trish.

Cam, I guess, had learnt the truth of Dad's advice the hard way. She'd immersed herself in school, became one of the popular girls in her class, dated the stud that everyone wanted to and then they'd gone away and he'd died in an accident so bad I wasn't even allowed to go to his funeral. Cam might have still been popular - even pitied, for what happened with Josh - but she was always a lot more distanced with everyone than she once was. I'd seen her before a few times, always wary as she walked around the school. It was as if she knew someone that she knew was to blame, but she wasn't sure who.

It broke my heart a little to see my sister acting that way. I wanted to help her, but I had no idea how. Without an Aspect to call my own - and more importantly, without her trust to confide in me about what had happened - I felt like there was nothing I could do to help. So instead I buried my head in the sand and tried not to bring more misery our way.


	3. 1-03

**_Aspects_**

_By Crukix_

**-.-.-.-**

**-.-.- 1.03 -.-.-**

"Mr Tanner. I take it that the world of mathematics is not thrilling enough for you to remain awake?"

I snorted myself awake as Mrs Magrady's voice broke through into my slumber. My book - devoid of notes, scribbles or anything even resembling work - was attached to my face by a small string of drool. Typically, the eyes of the entire class were on me; some judging, some mocking and some just glad for the diversion in attention.

"I… uh, sorry," I said, lamely.

"You are lucky, Mr Tanner," she said, slapping a ruler down on my textbook, startling me into total awareness, "that the principal has called an emergency assembly. All pupils are to gather in the sports hall immediately." She looked from me to the class, slapping the ruler in her empty hand. "And missing it is punishable by a _week's_ after school detention."

The groan that came out of my class could have woken the dead. At the instructions of our teacher we filed out into the bleached-white corridors of our school, making the trek to the so called 'state-of-the-art' sports hall. Recently refurbished, it was a dark blue in colour and like the previous sports hall, was saturated with the clinging smell of old sweat.

Cam was in my line of sight the moment I walked into the assembly hall, predictably with a new boy's arm around her shoulders. The flavour of the week this time was Leo Williams - the typical blue eyed, blonde haired jock. The last school vote had placed him at both 'Most attractive male' and 'Most likely to become a celebrity'.

Whoever invented the votes needed their brains examining.

Cam caught my eyes and rolled hers. I saw the way she moved gracefully under Leo's hold, managing to knock his arm off her shoulders and make it seem like it was his decision. For whatever reason, he was trying way too hard to let people know he was with my sister. When it got to the point where he spanked her on the rear in front of _everyone_, I'm not sure which one of us wanted to die of shame first.

I found a spot on one of the benches to the back and threw myself down, trying my best to hide. Of course, my friends chose that moment to sit next to me and _loudly_ point out just what was happening with my sister.

"She's going to kill him," said Trevor. He was a year younger than us, but had been pulled up by two years for excelling so much in his studies. A silver stud hung in both his ears and he had bleached his hair to nearly the colour of corn. With the way it contrasted against his skin, he managed to gain the attention of almost everyone that walked past him. "I've got twenty that she kills him before this assembly is over."

Linda snorted, twirling a strand of bright-pink hair around a finger as she did so. "Are you kidding? She'll do it afterwards, where no one can see her." She glanced over at my sister, swinging her free arm by her side. Everything she wore was a shade of neon. Her arms were covered in bright yellow and green glow-bands, her leggings were a violent shade of blue and her skirt - that barely could be called a skirt - was as orange as the setting sun. Even her hair was a neon pink, her lipstick today a toxic green. Looking at her, I couldn't help but wish I was colour blind.

"My bet is she does it with her fists," Linda continued, pulling her long, pink hair into childish pigtails. "Maybe a knife, if he really keeps on like that."

"Leo is a lucky man," breathed Charli. Her actual name was Chiranjeevi, though like everything else about herself, she did as much as possible to distance herself from her family's expectations. She had cut her hair short - seemingly with a knife, with the way it sloped down her forehead and shaved her head on one side. Clearing her throat, she quickly added, "That she hasn't killed him yet. Or that she doesn't have any older brothers. Mine would have killed him by now."

"Yes," I grunted, scowling at the floor, "let's all take bets on my sister's love life. We all know she doesn't get enough attention as it is."

"Sorry," they mumbled as one.

I sighed and forced myself to look back up at them. They didn't mean anything bad by it - were the shoe on the other foot, I knew I'd be joining in as much as them. It wouldn't be too long before Linda or Trevor made a joke about the massive gold hoops Charli had in her ears, then all hell would break loose for her. But at least she could take her earrings out, if they offended her enough. I was stuck with my sister, for better, for worse.

"Oh, now it just got interesting." Trevor rubbed his hands together like he was a diabolical mastermind or something. Grinning, he pointed to the fire exit of the sports hall, where beneath a cloud of cigarette smoke, Colin walked in, flanked by his group of faceless, interchangeable goons. "The current versus the ex. Who's gonna win?"

"_Guys,"_ I tried, even as the rest of the sports hall seemed to notice. I groaned and willed the ground to swallow me up. It would have been a perfect time to develop powers of invisibility. Instead I was treated to everyone either looking at my sister, or looking to me and then my sister, as if I were a puppetmaster in control of this whole thing.

"You _whore!"_ Colin screamed, loud enough to silence any ambient chatter in the crowds. Even the teachers grew silent. "It's been two fucking days and already you're fucking this loser?"

The principal, a small, middle-aged man by the name of Michael Michaels - the common opinion was that his parents hated him - attempted to wedge himself in between them, going so far as to raise his arms as if they would stop them both. "Now see here!" he squeaked.

"Oh, get over yourself," Cam shouted back, but with half the venom and an air of disinterest. "Maybe I just wanted someone who could actually get it up and working. Or maybe yours was - it was always too small to tell anyway."

"You _whore!"_ Colin screamed again, as I began to slide from the bench and attempt to pretend that I was invisible. "No one's ever going to be big enough for you - you've put it about that much your flaps are probably wider than the gates of hell!"

"_Enough!" _It was the physical education teacher, a slight woman that everyone - teacher and student alike - called Marge. She was smaller than me, bright blonde, big chested and looked like the slightest breeze could knock her over. The common opinion was that she'd spent some time with the army, by the way she could control a room. Regardless, the martial arts classes she taught proved to everyone that if it came down to it, there wasn't _anyone_ in the school that could take her on.

"Both of you, sit down and shut up!" barked Marge. "Then after this assembly, you're both going to remain here and mop this entire hall until it's cleaned of your filthy words!"

They took their seats quickly, Colin scowling, Cam's face impossible to read. After that outburst, everyone quickly found a spot on a bench or the floor to sit on.

"Right, yes, well," stuttered Michael Michaels, "I suppose I should thank you all for coming here today. However, what I have to tell you is of grave concern." He looked to the other teachers, as if he needed reassuring, then cleared his throat. "There is no easy way to tell you this, so I shall simply come out and say it. It is my regret to inform you that eight pupils from New-Santalune High have been found murdered in the past week."

If I wasn't already sitting on the floor, I'm fairly certain I would have fallen on it. From where I was sitting, I could see the way my friend's faces bore the signs of worry and fear. We'd had announcements like this in the past - the most recent had been when Myst had been out murdering. We all knew what was coming, even though we prayed it wasn't.

"The police have told me that the only information I am allowed to disclose at this time is that the murderer is either a powerful Rogue or Trainer."

The questions came as one wave of noise. Huddled on the floor, I wondered if it would ever accept my wishes and just swallow me up. Another serial killer, this time not five miles down the road. They were our rival school, the only real difference between us just the 'New' of their name, but it was beyond the realm of my imagination to picture someone coming along and killing any students.

"Now, I don't doubt that you have questions," he shouted over the wave of noise, "but I have been told by all involved that this is the limit of information that I can give you. Please understand that because of these latest developments, the school have no choice but to issue a Class C threat."

Everyone burst into noise again. Class C threat meant that we were to be accompanied at all times whilst on school grounds. Bathroom breaks, trips to each class and even if you went to get a drink of water – you and your assigned partner would have to go together. If your parents couldn't drop you off at school in the morning, you would have to be collected from your house by a parent that could drop you directly off at the gates. Three teachers would wait at each school gate, checking names against a register.

"Shit," muttered Trevor, "there goes my date with Trish."

"You're kidding," I said. "You actually asked her out?"

"No." He grinned toothily. "But I was going to. I thought it'd be a way to get her all riled up and likely to fuck up somehow. I'd like to see her grades slip just slightly so she realises she isn't the best at everything there is."

"You're such a bitch," whispered Linda.

"Well you dress like a clown."

I sighed. "Guys, really." With the noise from everyone else, I could barely hear our own conversation. Apparently the teachers had taken the chance to group up and discuss what was happening between themselves. "Is this really the time?" I sat back up on the bench and stared down at my hands. "You're my _buddy_ this year, aren't you Charli?"

"Yeah," she said quickly, as if she wasn't listening to us. When I looked at her, I saw her biting her bottom lip, almost chewing on the ring pierced through the side. "We don't really have any of the same classes though, so this is going to be a bitch for the next few weeks."

"I've got Simon," Linda said with a groan. "Count yourselves lucky. He's Colin's little lackey. Honestly Felix, I don't know what your sister saw in Colin – he's a creep. He hangs around with all those dicks in their leather jackets and looks like he's _grooming_ Simon."

"He has a motorbike," I said, shrugging. "That was the only explanation I got." Though we shared a room, we didn't share that much – and honestly, there were things I didn't _want_ to know about my sister, surprising as it was.

"I have Dennis." Trevor made a face. "That's the other reason why I wanted to ask out Trish – I wanted to see his face when he heard about that."

"_God_," Charli sighed, "do you have a death wish?"

"I like to tease death – to let him think that he's got me in his clutches, then I can outsmart him and let him realise that he isn't the master of the whole universe, unlike he thinks."

I rolled my eyes and tried to see if I could find Cam in the crowd. Somehow, she had managed to sneak away in all the commotion – knowing her, probably for a sneaky cigarette behind the bike shed. I guess we all dealt with the news in different ways. So many people were offended, panicking. Cam wanted to get away, whilst my friends and I pretended that everything was normal.

"Now I want you all to listen," Michael Michaels said, actually managing to control the noise. "In light of this, we are going to let you all go home early today – that _is_," he said, raising his voice over the cheers, "provided that you go home in groups. No one is to be left on their own. If you live the furthest away in your group – so that is, if you are the last one home – you will stay at the house of the last person that _you_ would drop off. If there is anyone that is driven to school that cannot get home with anyone else, you will remain here, watched by the teachers until the point where we can contact your parents for them to collect you. If you are remaining, we can also provide you with more training with your pokémon. Now, classes 7A, 7B and 7C may leave first."

We watched as the first years, sat right at the front of the sports hall, began to stand, grouping together, their faces pale. They reminded me of groups of newborn animals from the documentaries I had seen – the runts of the litter, first to be picked off. Only a few kids were still sitting on the floor, staring at their feet as if ashamed that they were the ones to be left behind.

"I don't feel like going home yet," Linda moaned to us. "Burger time? Greasy's has gotta be empty if everyone's getting scared – means he might even let us get some milkshakes for free or something!"

Cam didn't look like she was going to show up again. As much as I wanted to try and find her, I knew it would be next to impossible. She had the innate knack of disappearing whenever there seemed to be any trouble rearing its ugly head.

"Fine," I said, shrugging. Worrying about my sister wouldn't do me any good. If I went home, I'd just be sat there pacing, biting my nails and thinking the worst until she turned up. Nearly losing her once had been bad enough. At least with other people I could distract myself a little.

"Good," Linda said, grabbing my wrist. She bounced to her feet, dragging me with her and smiled as people gave her the side eye. Without even asking their opinions, she let go of me and pulled Charli and Trevor to their feet too. "We're going," she told them both. "What's the worst that can happen, right?"


	4. 1-04

**_Aspects_**

_By Crukix_

**-.-.-.-**

**-.-.- 1.04 -.-.-**

The main street in New Santalune could barely be called a street – it was more like a haphazard collection of shops crammed into a tiny stretch of road. The normal commerce went to the big shopping mall five blocks over – OmegaMart, part of the ever growing OmegaCorp. Apparently it wasn't enough that OmegaCorp had put together the world's leading team of Elites – they had to try and rule the world through retail too.

With the mall absorbing most of the business, our main street was mostly full of little paper shops, butcheries and charity stores. Most of them were empty, with people obviously bored inside and praying for some sort of business.

Even the pokémon stores were almost empty – those that operated on the high street, at least. Trainers were those who still went out into the wilds and captured extra pokémon to form battling teams. Rogues were those who used their pokémon for criminal acts. The rest of us tended to just stay with our assigned pokémon and develop our Aspects.

I placed myself in the latter. I had little desire to traipse around in the wild, sleeping rough and having to find black market stalls to buy extra poké balls and feeding supplies.

Trevor grabbed himself a coffee from a passing street cart, filling it almost entirely with salt rather than sugar. Even the vendor seemed concerned for his mental health – though it was quickly washed away when Trevor paid him with a ten and let him keep the change.

"Stop throwing all that money away," Linda nagged, "you're going to need it."

"I let you live your life how you want to." He sipped at his coffee and we all grimaced in unison. Only once had I ever made the mistake of trying Trevor-style coffee. Never again.

Greasy's was an old-school diner hidden behind a dingy looking alleyway between a butchers and a kebab shop. Both the butchers and the kebabs were shut, which meant that the only smells drifting towards us were those of deep-fried chocolate, battered fish and vinegar-drenched chips. The shop, in the middle of an otherwise typical dark, piss-stained alleyway, was almost pristine white on the outside. Steam filtered out above us, hissing as it was released from nearby shops.

The bell above the door chimed as we entered. Today's waitress was Gladys – who according to Grandpa, was the perfect picture of an overworked secretary from old Castellia. Her hair was quite clearly a wig, dark orange and weaved into a bun. Her apron did a bad job of hiding her sagging frame and she wore enough make up to suffocate a small child. Seeing us, she pursed her lips, sucking on the cigarette lodged permanently there. She rolled her eyes as we took a dark red booth by the window, pursing her lips at us.

"Does she know what your grandpa said about her?" Linda asked me.

"I hope not." Leave it to Grandpa to sum people up in the most offensive way possible. As he put it – she had a tiny mouth that looked like a withered arsehole when she pursed her lips. Personally, I wouldn't blame her if she beat him round the head with one of the menus – I certainly would have.

She didn't even bring a pad over when she came to take our orders. "The usual?" she asked, boredom evident.

"Lime milkshake for me today," Linda said, ignoring our groans of disgust.

"Four meatfeast burgers, extra onion, one with double pickle, one with no pickle and extra lettuce, one with low-fat cheese, one with the meat rare," Gladys rattled from memory. "Four portions of fries, one lot of onion rings, garlic mushrooms, wedges, deep fried milk chocolate with white chocolate ice cream for dessert and three strawberry-banana milkshakes, one lime. Sound right?"

We'd barely nodded before she turned around and left us to talk. A quick glance showed us that she was playing on her phone once more, her long nails scratching at the screen each time she touched it.

"She scares me," Trevor said.

"It's the nails," Charli said sagely. "No one should be able to do anything with claws like that."

"Personally, I think it's the mouth that looks like an asshole."

I'd timed it just well enough to get a spray of coffee to erupt out of Trevor's nose. Crying with laughter, he knocked condiments over the table as he searched for tissues to blow his nose with. Linda finally took pity on him enough to hand them to him, though Charli stole the majority, having been caught in the firing zone.

"I hate you," she said, wiping down her shirt. _"Seriously_." Crumpling up the tissues, she threw them into Trevor's face. "I don't know what's worse – the fact that now my top is stained with coffee, or the fact that when it dries, I'm going to have suspicious salt-stains there."

It was all we needed to start laughing. Even when Gladys appeared by our table, bringing with her everything but the desserts, we could barely manage to hold ourselves together. True to Linda's predictions, Greasy's was completely empty other than us. It meant we could be as loud, abrasive and generally idiotic as possible and no one was there to complain.

"So how are you guys handling your pokémon?" Trevor asked, around a mouthful of fries. "I think my Aspect must be developing. Ever since I got the buizel my body just keeps demanding more salt."

"Guess you'll get a water-related Aspect then," Linda said, picking her burger apart with her hands, letting the rare, bloody meat drip over her plate. "If your body is already filling with enough water to flush out the salts you need. But mine's going okay," she said, shrugging. "I wouldn't have thought I'd match up with a golett, but it's listening to me, at least."

"I barely ever use mine," I confessed. "Something seems to stop me every time."

"Says the boy who got the ralts," Charli said. "You're just scared you'll get red eyes or develop a dress you'll never be able to take off."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Lady Lileep. That must be why you've shaved off half your hair – it was starting to grow in a little tentaclely?"

"Ass," she said, throwing a piece of low-fat cheese at me.

"But anyway," Linda said, "does anyone know who the people in New Santalune High that got killed?"

We all fell silent. Charli continued to pick away at the low fat cheese on her burger, eating it layer by layer. Trevor held a mushroom in limbo between his plate and his foot. I stared at the bowl of onion rings as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"I think what's happening has to be big," I said, still staring at the plate. "When I got in last night, Mom said that Dad was working late – a Trainer got involved in something and they ended up on the slab. I think Dad must have got the case or something."

Dad worked the morgue in New Santalune, though he never tended to mention work when he got home. Even so, it seemed to make me the go-to guy for any information they wanted about the shit that was happening, even when I knew next to nothing at all.

"Do you think it's a new Rogue?" Trevor was always the first one to assume everything was pokémon-related in origin, even something as simple as a chicken laying an egg. "Or what if a hero went bad?"

Charli's burger landed with a _squish_ on her plate. "Do you really want to know?" She dipped a fry into her milkshake, bit off the tip and used the rest to point at him. "Eight people in one week, but they're not saying that it's a mass murder. That means they've been taken out for some reason. Maybe they got killed because they knew too much."

"You watch too much television," snorted Linda.

"And you guys don't think. What if it is a rogue? What if it's someone that has a power that lets them know if someone knows something about them? What if they're crazy. What if-"

The store bell rung and interrupted her. We all leapt out of our skin and spun in our seats to see Trish walk in, Dennis once again following her. She seemed not to notice him hanging around in her shadow, almost like he was waiting for her scraps.

She saw us, frowned and walked over. "Shouldn't you be at home?"

"Shouldn't _you_?" Linda shot back. "There's four of us – there's only you and Dennis."

Trish smiled and took a seat in the booth opposite. "I _am_ home," she told us, pulling a book out of her bag and dropping it on the table. "My parents own this place. They're the cooks."

"Oh," I said, answering for all of us. With the amount of time we spent there, one of us should have realised. Silently, we all turned back to our food, eating slowly, as if there was a physical weight of guilt bearing down on all of us.

Linda was the first to break the silence. "So, do you know anyone in New Santalune High?"

I was uncertain if she was just turning into a gossip or genuinely morbidly curious. Before we could apologise for her, Trish answered.

"No." Trish's tone brokered no arguments. Yet still, Linda opened her mouth to ask something else. "I don't know anyone there," Trish said, cutting across Linda before she could talk. "And if I did, I wouldn't say anything. The police won't say anything until the families have had time to grieve. Prying into it before then isn't exactly the most compassionate thing to do."

Dennis, apparently cowed from earlier, slunk into the booth opposite Trish, tucked in the corner opposite the cash register. He picked out a textbook from his bag and placed it gently on the table, as if the slightest impact might turn Trish against him once again.

"Oh yeah," Trevor whispered, "guess I should have made sure he got home alright, seeing as he's my _buddy _and all."

Charli looked up at me, meeting my eyes. With a flick of her head I understood. "Should we get the rest to go?" I asked. "It's getting to about the time we'd be leaving school anyway."

"I'm gonna stay," Trevor told us. He sipped at his coffee, grinning. "I should apologise to Dennis – I guess he's only here because I wasn't there to walk back with him. Especially seeing as he only lives at the bottom of my road." He chuckled as he leant back and cracked his back. "I think I might use the chance to try and catch up with some studying and hey, Trish is here, which means that I'm not technically breaking any of the school's rules."

She looked up and narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not having my parents drop you off home. You sort that out yourself."

"Neither am I!" Dennis added in a squeak.

Trevor just smiled at him. The rest of us sighed and after calling Gladys over, helped to carry our plates to the counter that separated the restaurant from the kitchen.

"You sure you don't want to come with?" I asked him.

"I'll be fine." He waved us away, his face already buried in a science textbook usually given to the year above us. "Just walk the girls home, Felix. I'll be fine."

"Okay, well… call if you need us, I guess." It felt like the thing that should be said. As the shop's door shut behind us, accompanied with the ding of the bell, Linda burst into a fit of giggles.

"She lives there!" she gasped, giggling like a lunatic. The main street had a few more people in it than last time, mostly a few local workers after having just finished their shifts. With the way they looked at us, apparently laughing children were not a part of day to day life for them.

"Can you believe that?" Linda continued to giggle. "Oh man, that was _so_ bad. Do we have to get somewhere new to eat now?"

"She's not that bad," Charli said. "She just wants to make something for herself – it's obvious."

"And since when were you the expert in psychology?"

"About the same time you started dressing like a rave gone wrong."

I tried my best to tune them out as I stared up at the sky. Barely even three in the evening and already the evening was starting to set in. If I did exactly as the school said, I'd have to drop Linda off at home first. Charli would be next, leaving me with at least three blocks to cover before I got home – her parents weren't exactly fond of male company being round the house, even if I sat outside in the garden with handcuffs looped around my wrists.

"Hey guys," I said, interrupting the latest phase of insults, "do you wanna crash round mine for a little bit? Dad can give you both a lift home – saves us staying out all night."

"Aw," Linda cooed, batting her eyelashes, "he really does care about us!"

I rolled my eyes as we stopped at the bottom of the high street, waiting for the lights to turn red. If we turned right, we'd start heading round to Linda's and it would begin the long way home. Straight ahead meant the best shortcut to mine.

Chivalry be damned – after the demon things that attacked the other night, I wanted to be curled up in bed the moment the lights went out. They had to be behind the recent deaths – but what could possibly link me to them?

"Let's go to Felix's," Charli said. "Maybe that way you'll find out a bit more about what's going on."

I fought the urge to groan. The last time Linda asked questions about a case, Dad banned her from the house for a month.

With any luck, I could find a way to get myself grounded. That would make certain I wouldn't have to put up with anything stalking me home.

**-.-.-.-.-**

"Those kids that got murdered, do they know anything about it yet? I mean, what sort of state were they left in? Was it Aspect-related? Oh yeah, more sugar please."

I shared a glance with Charli and we both buried our heads in our hands. Linda, oblivious to it all, continued to question Mom as she walked around the kitchen, attempting to navigate the verbal minefield that was Linda.

"Linda, honey," Mom tried, smiling as pleasantly as she could – though I could tell she was resisting the urge to brain Linda with the sugar canister. "Even if I knew anything about the case, I wouldn't be able to tell you."

"But still!" Linda hopped up on the black counters of our kitchen and made the best attempt at pouting. In our grey-scale kitchen, her bright clothes made my head start to hurt. "There has to be something you can tell me!"

"I can tell you it's none of your business."

I grunted as I sat on the floor beside the doorframe. Charli did the same, sitting on the opposite side of the frame. We rolled our eyes in unison and sighed.

"I thought your mom knew not to feed her sugar?" she whispered.

"I think she's just glad for the female company," I confessed. "Cam's not exactly full of niceties to her these days."

"Still?"

I nodded, biting my lip as Mom brushed past me, touching my hair on the way to the fridge. "Your father should be home soon."

I wanted to laugh at the tone she used. It was very much, _save me from your insane friend._

"Alright. Not working late today?"

Before she could answer, the house phone began to ring. She excused herself to the hallway, her heels silent over the carpet floors.

"She must know _something_," Linda continued to protest. "How could she not? Felix, she's your mom. Ask her!"

I snorted. "No chance. Mom holds onto her secrets like they're blood or something. You're on your own here."

"Charli?"

"No way Linda." She chuckled under her breath. "The last time you roped me into anything like that, I was grounded for a month."

I was still grinning as I turned my head to the sound of the front door opening. Cam strolled in, jacket slung over her shoulder, a can of some sort of beer in her hand. By the face that she pulled when she looked into the hallway, I didn't have to guess that she'd seen Mom on the phone.

My face fell. There had to be something that was causing this rift between them. Whatever it was, it was beyond my knowledge.

"'Sup?" she grunted, walking into the kitchen.

Charli squeaked and seemed to retreat in on herself. Linda, instead, grinned and bounced off the counter to Cam's side.

"So," she started, "so you know anything about these murders?"

"What makes you think I do?"

"Your dad works the morgue."

"Oh," Cam grunted, her face falling. She took a swig of her beer. I struggled not to sigh out loud. "Yeah, there's that. But no, I don't know shit." She took another swig and placed the empty can down on my head, grinning as I swatted it away. "Dad just pulled up in the driveway, by the way. Told me he had something important to tell us."

I felt my stomach drop. "We're not moving again, are we?" The last thing I wanted was to be uprooted again. Granted the last time it had happened was nearly six years ago, but the whole idea of moving at the drop of the hat still left lingering annoyances with me.

She snorted a laugh. The poké ball she kept on the buckle of her belt gleamed as the light caught it. "Nothing like that. He wouldn't say."

"Should we leave?" Charli asked.

"Not my problem." Cam shrugged, snatched the can back from my head and tossed it towards the bin. It missed by a fair margin. As our front door opened again, I heard Mom make her excuses to hang up the phone and greet Dad tersely.

Something was definitely up.

"Felix?" he called, sounding like he was already on the stairs.

"Kitchen!" I called back. Linda moved to put herself in the corner of the room, whilst Charli hugged her knees and seemed to crawl in on herself. I couldn't blame them.

"Felix," he said, almost breathless. When he walked into the room, he looked _ill_. Pale, even. Bags under his eyes, sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Charli, Linda." If he was surprised, he didn't show it. If anything, it seemed to make him look ever more ill. "Good," he said. That was strange enough. "You're all here. This is… this is hard."

"Cut the theatrics Dad," Cam said. She picked up her can from the floor, stuck her pinkie in the hole and started to waggle it to and fro. "It's obviously not good news. Related to those murders?"

"Cam," Dad started, "this doesn't concern you."

"Nothing ever does," she muttered. "But it obviously concerns Felix. If it involves him, it involves me."

I felt Mom's hand on my shoulder. Her touch was gentle, yet betrayed the way she was shaking.

"It's… it's about the murders, yes," Dad whispered. "Felix… Linda, Charli. I need to tell you all something. You're not going to like it."

"Dad?" I asked. He wrung his hands together, unable to meet me in the eye. "Dad? Seriously. What's wrong?" My stomach started to bubble, like a volcano about to erupt. Whatever news he had wouldn't be good.

He sucked in a breath. "I got a call an hour ago. There's been another murder." I saw the way he looked at me. The way he looked at Linda and Charli. The pieces started to click into place. _No_. It couldn't be. Maybe he had his facts wrong. Maybe I was just thinking of the worst case scenario. "Felix… there's no easy way to tell you this."

_No, no, no, no._

"It's Trevor. The latest victim is Trevor."


	5. 1-05

**_Aspects_**

_By Crukix_

**-.-.-.-**

**-.-.- 1.05 -.-.-**

Trevor…

I blinked past the tears that still somehow managed to fall and rubbed my already raw eyes. Dropping Linda and Charli off at their houses had not been a fun affair. We had stayed silent throughout the entire car ride, staring off into the distance, afraid to look at each other in case we began to cry again.

When we got back, I went straight to my room and bawled like a baby.

"Felix?" Cam whispered, her fingers wrapping round the edge of our room's curtain. "Do you need some company?"

"No," I sobbed, sighing. "Yes."

She slipped around the curtain and wrapped her arms around me, burying my head on her shoulder.

"Cry if you need to," she said as she stroked my hair. It reminded me of the times when we were younger, back when our parents had argued. It was the way that she would always help to try and calm me down.

"Cam," I said, clutching onto her jacket. "Why? Why him?"

"I don't know," she whispered, still stroking my hair. "I wish I had the answers. Dad'll find something out."

The way she stroked my hair made my eyes heavy. "It won't bring him back."

"No," she said. I felt the edges of my vision grow dark. My eyelids were almost impossible to open. "But I'll find out who did it."

-.-.-

I woke with a start, snorting and jerking awake so suddenly I threw myself off the bed. I landed with a thud, groaned and looked around, confused at the sudden change from day into night.

"What?" I grunted, looking around. My room was empty, quiet. My head felt heavy, spongey.

I pulled back the curtain and found my sister's side of the room empty. Her bed was cold, unslept in. I ran a hand through my hair as I tried my best to figure out what was going on. _Something_ was niggling at me but I just couldn't figure out what it was.

When I went into the hallway, I could hear Dad's snoring. There was a dull humming beneath it – Mom's fan at work again. It meant both my parents were in.

But Cam?

I couldn't tell why my gut was bubbling with so many butterflies. It felt like someone had stirred them up in a tornado and then let rip.

I glanced out of the kitchen windows and saw only the darkness waiting. If I concentrated enough, I was certain I could see the shadows moving, waiting for me.

I checked under the freezer and found her spare key missing. She kept that there for when our parents would take her keys to stop her sneaking out – or at least back in after going out. The first few times she'd gone out and simply smashed the kitchen window to get back in.

"God damn it, Cam," I whispered to the empty house. It didn't answer.

I had to find her somehow. Only my sister would decide to venture outside whilst a serial killer was prowling the streets.

Her words as I fell asleep remained in my mind, growing more unsettling the longer I went without finding her. The outside world was a big place – big _and_ scary now that I knew what waited for me in the shadows.

I had to brave them to find her. That itself would be a job.

She wasn't an idiot. Anything that could be used to trace her would have either been destroyed or still on her. Mom had tried installing a GPS on her phone some time ago, but Cam had found it, stuck it to a neighbour's cat and then gone out partying for a week.

A quick online search told me that the latest flavour of the week lived only two blocked round the corner.

That still meant, however, getting there. If she wasn't at his house, how much of an idiot would I look?

I sucked in a breath, grabbed my keys from the rack behind the door and darted out into the darkness. My body shook with every rapid breath I took. Even as I activated the flashlight on my phone, the light danced and made the shadows only that little bit more intimidating.

Nothing moved in the darkness. The sky remained free of rain. The world was quiet, almost unnaturally so.

I ran to Leo's house. My footsteps echoed in the night. The moon was big, bright. It felt like a spotlight, marking me for the shadows.

When I reached his street I slowed, glancing for the numbers on the houses. The stupidity of my plan began to alarm in my mind. What would I say to him when he answered the door – _if_ it was him that answered. What if his parents answered the door? I couldn't really introduce myself as their son's girlfriend's little brother. Aside from being a mouthful and extremely inducing of puppy-dog pity, it just sounded _stupid._

His house was number 102. I stopped outside the bright blue door and scanned the street for the demons. Nothing.

The lights in the house were off. I wasn't sure what that meant. Only as I was stood outside his house did I think to check the time.

One in the morning. On a school night.

_Idiot._

Even so, I was there. If the feeling in my gut was right – and I _really_ hoped it wasn't – I'd regret not trying.

The doorbell sounded like an echoing roar in the otherwise quiet night. I winced and scanned around for more creepy things that would come out to get me.

Nothing.

I wasn't sure if I was nervous because they might be out there, or if I was nervous because I hadn't seen any of them.

The light above the door went on. The butterflies in my stomach erupted into life.

Leo answered the door. The first thing I saw were his bright pink jigglypuff boxers. He wore only them and a sleepy expression on his face.

I felt the heat rise right to the tips of my ears.

"Felix?" he grunted, stretching and yawning as he did so. I tried my best not to stare. "What's wrong?"

"Is Cam here?" I asked – though it came out as more of a squeak.

He blinked, suddenly awake. "No, she said she was staying in tonight. What's wrong?"

"She's not home," I said.

"Oh. I thought that was normal with your sister?"

His eyes were _really_ blue. Keeping contact with them let me see that much. "The serial killer has been going around here." My words spilled out almost as one word. "One of my best friends just got _murdered_ by this guy and she's gone out and _I need to find her._"

"I – shit, fuck, what do I say?" He scratched down between his legs. His apathy towards the situation hit a nerve with me. The way he stared at me with a sleepy expression served only to dance on that nerve again and again. "Sorry doesn't seem good enough. Do you need help looking for your sister?"

"She's your _girlfriend;_ you shouldn't even need to offer to help!" I sniped.

His eyes seemed to double in size. "You're right. Shit. Let me help. Give me a second."

"_Shove_ your second," I hissed. I grabbed the poké ball from my necklace and activated it. Benji appeared in a flash of light, settled into my arms and clung to my top. "I'll find her myself."

I turned and ran into the night, not looking where I was going. The light from my phone danced around me. I could feel a dance of emotions ghosting across my own, amplifying what I could feel.

_Something_ guided me in a direction I couldn't discern. I looked down at Benji. He matched my gaze with his own glowing red eyes.

I ran to the outside of town. Normally I would never have been able to run so much. I didn't know how I wasn't already coughing up phlegm. I wasn't about to argue.

At the edge of New Santalune was Requiem Plaza – a graveyard the size of a small shopping mall, filled with epitaphs for those that died in the Reckoning.

I felt _pulled_ there. It made the fears in my stomach threaten to bubble over. Only Benji's weight against my chest stopped me from running in the other direction.

The Plaza was surrounded by six foot high black metal railings. White marble architecture shone during the day. During the night, it seemed to glow with a light of its own, almost as bright as the moon above.

I saw blood on the centre memorial.

I should have felt nervous, panicked, sick. Instead I felt empty, _hollow._

Blood drops became a trail of blood. A trail became a river. The river became a lack.

The body of a pokémon was its damn. A slowking, stomach opened wide, insides pulled outside

"Danny," I said, tasting bile. My sister's pokémon.

Benji murmured in my arms. I knew what it meant, even if I didn't want to believe it.

The river of blood continued further up the hill. I knew what was waiting for me. My footsteps were slow at first, heavy. As the flow of blood widened, I sped up. The moonlight shone at the very top of the hill.

When I saw the body, I dropped Benji and ran. His cry of pain was lost beneath my scream.

Cam laid there, eyes open and unseeing, a perfect line of death across her throat.

I met her cold, dead eyes and then the world went black.

-.-.-

"Mr Tanner. I take it that the world of mathematics is not thrilling enough for you to remain awake?"

I snorted myself awake as Mrs Magrady's voice broke through into my slumber. My book - devoid of notes, scribbles or anything even resembling work - was attached to my face by a small string of drool. Typically, the eyes of the entire class were on me; some judging, some mocking and some just glad for the diversion in attention.

I stared at my classroom, panicked and confused.

"Well, Mr Tanner?" continued Mrs Magrady. "Do you even have an answer?"

I made a single panicked, confused noise and then vomited over the desk.


	6. Interlude 01

**_Aspects_**

_By Crukix_

**-.-.-.-**

**-.-.- Interlude 01 -.-.-**

His ears were still ringing.

Calem groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. The last thing that he could remember were the beings of life and death themselves fighting against the control that god awful machine had over them. They had screamed, they had _fought_ and the weapon had still fired.

He looked down at his hands and found them perfect, pristine. The scars he'd accumulated over the journey were no longer there. He could remember his fingers being _atomised_ as the weapon had backfired and exploded.

"Clearly I'm not dead," he said. His voice cracked and broke, like he had gone for days without drinking. He winced and swallowed what little moisture there was in his mouth.

The grass danced and swayed beneath him. It was green. It _smelt_ like grass. Something, however, felt _off_ about it.

He brushed his fingers over the blades of grass and felt it bend beneath his touch. There was an _energy_ beneath it, almost like he could feel the life that ran through its cells.

All six balls were still on his belt. He could remember seeing them disintegrate before his eyes.

He had no idea in Kalos where he had emerged. He stood in the middle of a grassy field, unable to place on a map where he could be. He looked down and saw that his clothes had reformed. The same tattered jacket that Serena had bought him on their first trip shopping - except now it had been repaired to almost new quality. Every detail - down to the collection of weird pennies he kept in his wallet - had been replicated perfectly.

He plucked the only poké ball that mattered from his belt and threw it into the air in front of him. HIs oldest friend emerged in a flash of white light. Scales as black as night, eyes as red as blood. A tongue that wrapped around his neck, dripping venoms corrosive to most known living things.

"Something's changed," he told his friend.

The greninja nodded as he stood, interlocking his fingers together. _"Indeed_," he whispered, his voice barely a note on the wind.

Calem stared for a long moment as his brain struggled to process and catch up.

"Huh," he grunted, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I can understand you now."

"_You always could. Now… now it seems whatever occurred brought those abilities to surface."_

His pokémon continued to stare at him, analysing him much like a predator would its prey. Once, Calem knew that it would have sent chills down his spine. Instead he felt nothing more than an idle curiosity as to what his friend was thinking.

"_I would have thought that such an event would have made you panic, perhaps even faint. Instead you seem apathetic towards these new changes."_

"Everything's changed," Calem said, looking towards the sky. No clouds drifted past. The sky was grey, almost covered in a smoggy haze that was impossible to see past. "Inside I feel different. Not stronger, not weaker. Just more… removed, I guess?" He shook his head. Words drifted across his tongue but darted just out of his reach when he tried to pin them down with words. "Terry… tell me. Do I look any different?"

"_No._"

"That sucks," he said, sighing. "I was hoping I could get a new nose," he said, reaching up to pinch his. "I've always thought it was too bulbous."

His greninja walked around him on two legs with the gait of a man with two broken legs. _"Nothing has changed."_ He stopped walking, crouched down to all fours and fixed his gaze on the distance. _"This place is unnatural. What is it?"_

"I'm not sure," Calem answered. "I woke up here, found it like this."

He began to walk, aimless in his direction. An eternal field of green grass met him. Twice he changed course. Twice the endless expanse of green failed to end.

"Terry," he said, "this is strange. Have we died? This is almost like the tales of Giratina's purgatory."

"_I remember being vaporised by the weapon."_ His pokémon stood up once more, folding his bulbous hands together. _"We should be dead."_ His eyes narrowed on the distance – further than Calem could ever hope to see. _"I see a mound of dirt. A rock lies above it. A grave?"_

Something in Calem's stomach turned cold at the thought. "You're certain?" The hair on the back of his neck rose to meet an unheard challenge.

"_We should investigate._"

He wanted to argue, to run away screaming. Yet Terry's advice had always been sound. He had been the brains behind their demolition of Team Flare. Calem had lost count of the times they would have died had it not been for Terry's sage wisdom.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he removed the goggles from his hat and fixed them over his eyes. "Let's do this," he said, his voice steadier than his hands.

Nothing came to meet them. Calem could remember the countless months in the wilds where they were unable to even find a bush to piss in without being attacked by _something_.

Eternity grew boring quickly, it seemed.

When they reached the grave, a silence fell over them like none Calem had ever experienced before. The unmarked place of rest seemed even more unnatural than the rest of their deserted prison.

"Terry," Calem whispered. "Whose is it?"

"_Mine? Yours?"_

As if in answer, a skeletal hand broke free of the ground.

Calem's shriek was louder than he would have liked to admit. He leapt back and stood, transfixed in horror as a decaying body rose up out of the ground. Scraps of fabric fell off the creature as it rose out of its grave. A single blue eye rolled around in the rotting skull that emerged. Clumps of yellowed hair stuck to the back of the skull, matted with blood and disease.

A tongue, attached to nothing, lay in the skull's mouth, held in place by the same mystical force that brought it to life.

Calem found his brain devoid of ideas. He had always thought that if zombies were to rise, he would have been able to rise to the challenge like a pro, beat them bloody and secure his position as a ruler of the apocalypse.

The creature, however, was _nothing_ like a zombie he had ever thought possible.

Terrry's wet, cold hand found purchase in his. He squeezed his pokémon, hoping that the contact would break the spell of whatever hell he found himself trapped within.

"Hello Calem," said the skeletal creature, her voice painfully familiar.

Calem could only whisper her name in surprise.

"_Serena?"_


End file.
